Bete Noire
by L Moonshade
Summary: When Gibbs told Kate they'd see each other again, she didn't expect it to be quite so soon.  Or to be faced with a situation she knows, yet still be helpless.  Sequel to and takes place immediately following The Immortals.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own 'em, still ain't making any money off them.

* * *

I put my garment bag down so I could get to my cell phone and check the number. It was one I didn't recognize, but it was also local, which told me who it was. I debated just leaving it, even started to put it back in my pocket but, in the end, I answered it.

"This had better be damned important, Gibbs."

"Late last night, we got a tip on a possible terrorist. I need someone who knows Arabic to help Tony go through the apartment and all my people are unavailable."

I sighed. "I'm at the..."

"I know. DiNozzo's on his way, he should be there in ten minutes."

"You know, you're not leaving..." I trailed off, realizing he'd already hung up. "That was way less annoying on the show," I told the phone.

I changed as quickly as I could then stopped at the front desk to let them know I was staying. By the time I got outside, Tony was just pulling up.

"I couldn't believe it when Gibbs told me where to get you," he said when I got in. "How the hell do you get the Bureau to pay for a place like this?"

I snorted. "I don't even give them the expense reports. My husband likes to spoil me, so I let him."

Tony pulled out, shaking his head. "Gibbs would call that cheating."

"One of my rules. Use all available resources."

He chuckled. "That's number 14."

Somehow, I wasn't surprised that Gibbs had a rule for that. "Look, would you at least try to ignore this?" I asked, pulling out my phone.

"What are you...? Oh. Calling your husband?"

"Yeah."

When Methos answered, I could tell I'd woken him up. "It's not time, yet," he grumbled. "I have hours before I pick you up."

"I'm not coming in, today. I'm needed at NCIS."

"Fuck. Why?"

"The price I'm paying for learning Arabic."

He sighed. "I knew that was a mistake. There's nothing you can do?"

"I could've said no."

Methos chuckled. "No, you couldn't have, that's not who you are. That's all right, it's part of the reason I love you so much. You know, it's really no surprise that you and MacLeod don't get along, given how alike the two of you really are."

I grimaced. "Oh, now, come on, there's no call for insults. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Be careful. I love you."

"Always. I love you, too."

Tony glanced at me when I hung up. "You all right?"

"I was able to spend all of an hour with my husband on our fifth anniversary, and now I'm going to be stuck here for Gods-only-know how long. No, DiNozzo, I'm not all right." I sighed and shook my head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap."

"No, it's okay. And, uh, don't make the mistake of apologizing to Gibbs. According to him, it's a sign of weakness."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He fell silent, but not for long. "Is it true that you pushed a doctor into the wall?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course Edwards documented that."

"He wanted it clear that it was you, for the lawsuit you're going back to."

I laughed. "David won't sue. Most of it's his money."

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Your husband? I think I'd rather go back to the lawsuit. He's gotta be pissed."

I gave him a wicked smile. "Oh, that's all right, too. He can be fun when he's pissed."

His jaw dropped then he shook his head. "That is what that's for," he said with a pointed look at my choker. "Damn, that's 50 bucks I owe Abby."

I hid a smile. Of course she knew; we'd talked about it on the drive to the hotel. "DiNozzo, I swear the next time you set up a pool around me... And don't get any bright ideas," I added quickly, knowing exactly what thoughts were going through his mind. "You wouldn't be able to handle me."

He grinned. "That sounds like a challenge."

I Gibbs-slapped him. "That's a warning, DiNozzo," I growled. "You even try, and I'll kick your ass."

"Okay, okay." He glanced at me. "He must be something."

"You have no idea." I frowned as he pulled into the lot and parked. "Not the nicest place."

He scoffed. "Qassam worked part time in a fast-food joint. He couldn't afford much."

"True."

We found out just how little he could afford—or wanted—when we got in. The place was bare and it didn't take nearly as long as I'd expected to go through the entire apartment, even with swabbing nearly every surface for explosives. While we worked Tony told me what had gone down, how NCIS had tried to take Qassam into custody and been forced to shoot him. As he did I felt a growing unease; the scenario was maddeningly familiar, but I couldn't place where from. Or, more to the point, which episode.

"Man, I've had nightmares about this," he said when we carried Qassam's things to the evidence locker. "Everything I own in one box, dying without a friend to my name. What about you?"

"Nope."

He frowned as we signed the evidence into the locker. "What nope? You've never had a nightmare?"

"No," I lied. I never really had done, at least, not until my death. Now, I had them at least once a year.

"Not even as a kid?"

"What would I have nightmares of? I was never afraid of monsters or the dark."

"Me, either, but the vampire on the canopy of my bed freaked me."

That threw me, not the canopy bed part, but the recurring sense of deja vu; I just couldn't come up with the circumstances. So, I gave him the response he was looking for. "You had a canopy bed?"

"I was five and my mother was into Louis the Fifteenth. It wasn't my call."

"Does she still frighten you?"

Tony was surprised by the question. "My mother?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, DiNozzo, the vampire."

He frowned. "What makes you think it was a 'she'?"

"Please, vampires are seducers. Given what I know of you, it had to be female."

He snorted. "Well, she was after my blood, not the pride of my childhood."

I raised my eyebrows as he let us into the elevator. "You were proud at five?"

Tony just smirked. "It was the same every night," he said after a floor or two. "She finished the story, tucked me in and blew out the candles. My mother thought that candlelight enhanced the trompe l'oeil."

I chuckled as I followed him to the bullpen. That explained a lot. "Canopy beds, trompe l'oeil, flickering candles. No wonder your bête noire was a vampire."

"Bête noire. Cute."

"It goes with the Louis the Fifteenth bedroom. So? What would happen?"

"Forget it."

"Forget what?" Gibbs asked.

I headed to the desk I'd used the day before. "Tony's bête noire."

"It's French for… "

"Nightmare?" Gibbs interrupted. "I do crossword puzzles too, DiNozzo."

"Actually my mother taught me nightmare in French…"

Gibbs, having enough, looked up and glared at him. "Yeah? Did your father teach you how to report?"

"Yeah. During cocktail hour, while I was pouring his Macallan eighteen, three fingers, one ice cube, I had to report in about my day at school and just give him sort of a…" he trailed off as Gibbs' glare—and his point—registered. "We bagged and tagged everything in Qassam's room, but there wasn't much there. Koran. Prayer rug. Fast food wrappers. This guy took home from work and didn't empty his trash. He had sinus problems. Bad breath."

I nodded. "Probably because he didn't brush his teeth. There was no brush or toothpaste in his bathroom. Just aspirin, sinus spray and breath freshener."

"Did you swab for explosives?"

"Top to bottom. Found minute traces of nitrate in the dresser table. Probably where he kept his Baretta."

"Computer?"

"Not even a Gameboy, Boss."

Gibbs stood and headed for the plasma screen. "Gitmo intel said Qassam was to execute a terrorist attack on the Naval base at Norfolk. He's in no shape to tell us how or when. His computer might."

I shook my head. "That'd be great, but he didn't have one."

"What about the food court where he worked?"

"Ah, just a keyboard with pictures. Burgers, malts, fries. Not exactly cyberspace friendly, Boss."

Cyberspace; the word triggered an idea. "Hey, he could have used an internet café. I'll check Little Creek and his neighborhood." I took the desk I'd used the night before and started pulling up information on the computer.

Gibbs heaved an exasperated sigh. "I should have thought of that."

"Well, you're more... you know, smurf than alpha geek. So am I, according to Agent McGee," Tony added quickly when Gibbs turned to look at him.

"You're right, DiNozzo."

That threw Tony. "I am?"

"Yeah. Hell, I still use a notebook and a pencil instead of a P-D-Q."

"It's P-D-A. You can call it Palm Pilot."

"It doesn't matter what I call it if I can't use it."

"I'll teach you."

Gibbs was incredulous. "You'll teach me? McGee teaches you, you teach me, it's backwards. God, I need coffee. I'll be with the Director."

I watched Gibbs walk off. "There's a technophobe if I ever saw one."

Tony shook his head. "Yeah. That's Gibbs' bête noire, all right."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Kate. Where's Gibbs?"

I looked up to see Abby with a box full of evidence. "Still with the Director."

"What about Tony?"

I frowned; she didn't seem like her normal, perky self. "The head. Are you okay, Abs?"

"No. Ducky needs this evidence back, and I haven't even analyzed it."

"That's strange."

"Yeah, kinda." She hesitated then said quickly, "You're going to think I'm crazy, but I had a nightmare and ever since I haven't been able to go to autopsy. I can't even take the elevator to the basement, anymore."

I thought I knew what this was and felt a moment of anxiety. "And you're looking for someone to take this to Ducky for you? I can do it."

Abby looked relieved. "You will? Thanks. I feel so silly..."

"We all have fears." I signed the chain of evidence. "I'll get this down to Ducky."

"Thanks, Kate. Oh, and he's doing an infectious autopsy."

"On who?"

Abby shrugged. "Qassam's the only one down there."

I shook my head. "That doesn't make any sense. How could he know Qassam's infectious if you haven't finished with the evidence?"

"No idea. Thanks, Kate."

I smiled, but even I could tell it was forced. "No problem."

Once on the way, I stopped the elevator between floors, mind racing furiously. I finally knew what was going on, namely the introduction of recurring baddie Ari, the man who'd killed my fictional counterpart. The problem was, I had no idea what to do about it. If I played it the way it had happened on the show, Ari would get away and more people would be killed. But if I did anything else, I could get Ducky or Gerald killed. Or Gibbs or myself and, while we wouldn't be permanently dead, it would destroy our current personas. Gods knew I didn't want that, and I doubted Gibbs did.

I closed my eyes with a sigh and Gibbs-slapped myself. "There's only one way to play this, and you know it, Kate," I told myself, starting the elevator again. "And that's as if you don't know what's going to happen." Especially since I only remembered the episode in broad strokes, it had been so long since I'd seen it.

When I got down to the basement, I found the morgue dark, except for the sign indicating an infectious autopsy. I could see Ducky and his assistant at a table, but they didn't see me, so I knocked, bringing Ducky to the door.

"You can leave it there," he told me.

I was not reassured. "You have to sign."

"Well, I can't open the doors with you there."

"What's the infection?"

"Don't know yet. He's got a pustule on his thigh. It may be nothing. I'll sign. Cross my heart."

Even if I hadn't seen the episode, I would have known something was up. Ducky wasn't quite himself, nervous, his sentences stilted and abrupt. I hesitated briefly then gave him a triumphant smile. "I beat my phobia," I said, doing anything I could to keep Ducky talking, to give him a chance to tell me something I could take to Gibbs and the Director.

"Yes. So I see. Well done, Abby."

I couldn't think of anything else to say and Ducky wasn't giving me anything to go on, so I set the box down and headed back to the elevator. I'd only taken a couple of steps when I heard the autopsy door slide open and I turned, reaching for my gun when I saw Ari aiming a gun at my heart.

"Since when do lab rats carry Sig Saurs? In."

I hesitated, quickly calculating the benefits of making him shoot me, but decided I was of more use alive than dead. Raising my hands, I did as I was told and entered the morgue.

"On the table. Face down, hands behind your head," he instructed.

I climbed onto the empty autopsy table, taking as much time as I dared. Once I was settled, Ari took my pistol then patted me down, taking his time more to be thorough than for enjoyment. He even went so far as to take off my shoes and socks. "What's this?" he said, pulling out the knife I kept in my boot. "A knife? Do you always carry one?"

"It's saved my ass more than once."

"Not this time, I'm afraid." He took my wallet and ID out of my pocket. "Special Agent Caitlin Todd." He reached up and fingered the choker I wore. "And who owns you, I wonder."

"Not you, so don't get any bright ideas."

He chuckled. "Are you any good with this gun, Caitlin?"

"Give it back to me and I'll show you."

"Hmm. Ever fire it in anger?"

"No."

"Now, I find that hard to believe."

"If I'm that pissed, I'd rather make things a bit more personal."

"Have you ever made it personal?"

"I'd love to right now," I growled. I needed to avoid giving him anything more than he already had. It was hard enough to try and keep up my charade, making it appear as if I were breathing. Somehow, I had the feeling that Ari would notice if I stopped.

He started going through the box I'd brought down, tossing most of it aside. "Did you shoot Qassam? Did you put that double tap in his heart?"

"She didn't shoot him," Ducky answered when I said nothing.

"Who did?"

"Special Agent Gibbs."

Ari looked intrigued. "That name rings a bell, Doctor Mallard. Is this all the evidence?"

"From what I can see from here. Gerald?"

"Looks like all of it."

"Caitlin, you may roll over now if you keep your hands where they are." He waited until I was on my back before continuing. "Did Special Agents search Qassam's room?" He waited a beat, during which I didn't answer. "Where is the evidence that was bagged and tagged?" Again, I didn't answer. "Doctor, please explain the rules to stubborn little Caitlin."

"If we lie, or he thinks we're lying, he'll put a bullet in one of Gerald's joints," Ducky told me.

"Be specific," Ari said. "Ball and socket joints. And, you omitted one condition."

Ducky sounded surprised when he said, "I did?"

"Yes, you did." Ari's demeanor was brusque, all business, until I looked into his eyes. There was fire and passion there; whatever he was doing was as much to feel alive as for any other reason.

"Oh, yes," Ducky said, as if just remembering. "We mustn't try to trick him."

Ari looked down at me. "Which you did, Caitlin, when you said you beat your phobia."

"She didn't know the rules," Ducky argued.

"But you did, Doctor Mallard. And you joined the ruse by calling her Abby."

I could only watch as Ari fired, hitting Gerald in the shoulder. Ducky immediately tried to do what he could, which wasn't much until he got his supplies.

"Help the good doctor, Caitlin," Ari told me.

I jumped down and did as I was told, helping Ducky get Gerald onto the table. "Sorry, Gerald," I said quietly.

"Hang on, I've got morphine. Kate, my medical bag, over by the desk on the floor."

I rushed over, past Ari, ignoring him until he grabbed my arm and gave me a little shake, making me look at him.

"I would dislike having to put a slug through his knee, as well."

I said nothing, just grabbed Ducky's bag and took it to him. He pulled out a syringe and put morphine into it then gathered gauze and cloth pads to press against Gerald's shoulder.

The phone rang. "Answer the phone, Doctor," Ari said.

"You answer it, I'm trying to stop this bleeding! Give him the morphine."

I did, through the cloth and into the thigh, while Ari watched. "Very good, Caitlin," he said, chilling me with the approving tone in his voice. I didn't like the impression of any sort of bond between us.

"I've got this," I told Ducky, putting my hands on the wad of cloth that he had on Gerald's wound. "Get the phone before he shoots Gerald again."

Once I had it, Ducky headed to the phone and reached for it. Ari stopped him, hitting the speaker button. "Autopsy," Ducky answered.

Over the phone, we could hear Gibbs. "Ducky. What's with the infectious autopsy?"

"Purely precautionary."

"Is that why you took the evidence back?"

"Yeah, sorry. But I'm really busy."

"Hey, is Kate there?"

Ducky glanced back at me. "No. She left a few minutes ago."

"Okay," Gibbs said, sounding as if he actually believed all that. "You let me know when I can come down. You got me curious."

Ducky hung up then glared at Ari. "I can't wait to weigh your liver," he said then came back to Gerald and shooed me out of the way, going back to working in silence.

Ari moved to stand next to me. "Medical training, Caitlin?"

When I didn't answer right away, he aimed the pistol at Gerald. "My husband's a doctor. I've picked up a few tips."

"Yes. You are one who learns even when you seem not to, I think."

"There," Ducky finally sighed. "I've stopped the bleeding."

"That's good." I I frowned when Ducky shook his head. "Isn't it?"

"Not really. I had to clamp his axillary artery to stop the bleeding."

"Which means Gerald will lose his arm if the artery isn't repaired and the blood flow restored soon," Ari told me.

"And you can't do that here," I said to Ducky.

"No, I can't. He's going to need a fully equipped room and staff."

"Which he will get as soon as I'm out of here. So. Where is the evidence collected in Qassam's room?"

"The lock-up," I told him.

"Which is?"

"In the garage, one floor up," Ducky answered.

Ari nodded. "The same way I came in."

I shrugged. "I don't know how you came in."

"In a body bag."

I gave him a feral smile. "Same way you're going out."

"Is it the same garage?"

"No," I said, though I hated to answer. "The evidence locker is above us, in the garage next to forensics."

Ari looked up, pausing to study the ceiling. After a moment he smiled wickedly, raised his gun and fired.

"So much for the camera," I muttered. At least they knew that Gerald was hurt and there was only one dirt-bag.

Ari retrieved clothes from the body bag and changed out of the greens he was wearing and into a black outfit, staying in the shadows where we couldn't see him clearly. Then he pulled out a duffel and started unpacking it. "Doctor, Caitlin, put Qassam in the body bag."

Since we were done wrapping Gerald's shoulder, Ducky and I lay him down and headed over to Qassam's body. Out in the hall an alarm started ringing, telling us they were no longer pretending not to know what was happening. Ducky and I paused, glancing out the door.

"Now, please," Ari said. He watched us for a moment as we worked, looking satisfied. "Soon they'll call to negotiate your release."

Of course they would, even though, "They won't negotiate with a terrorist."

"Caitlin, when you get to know me better, you won't call me that."

I didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer.

When the phone rang, Ari answered, getting right to the heart of the matter. "I've regrettably had to demonstrate the consequence of not obeying my orders. The man I shot is in danger of losing his arm."

It was a woman who answered. "Well then it's important..."

Ari didn't let her finish. "When all evidence collected from Qassam's room is in my hands, you may have your wounded man."

"I'll need the approval of the NCIS Director before I…"

Again he interrupted, the arrogant bastard. "He's standing next to you. Nod yes to the negotiator, Director Morrow."

There was a brief pause, then the negotiator answered. "You have a deal. Now can we talk about releasing…?"

"You have ten minutes," Ari said then hung up.


	3. Chapter 3

Once we had Qassam in the body bag, Ducky zipped it then glanced up at me. I'd been eying a scalpel that had been left on the table, something that didn't get past him. "Caitlin, no," he hissed. "He wants you to try."

Of course Ari wanted me to try, which was why I left it there. Ari strolled back from the phone, pausing to study me for a moment before picking up the scalpel.

"You disappoint me, Caitlin, I expected you to act."

"And give you a reason to shoot Gerald again?"

He smirked then turned back around. He didn't look like he was expecting anything so I quietly slipped the knife out of my belt buckle and grabbed him, hoping to get him in the neck. He spun, backhanding me hard enough to send me stumbling into the table Qassam was on, and I dropped the knife. I would have fallen, but Ari grabbed me and yanked me close, pinning me against him. I could tell that I'd been right to try for his neck, he was wearing a bulletproof vest.

"I have no intention of shooting Gerald again." He leaned in close. "I did, however, want to see if I was right about you, Caitlin," he said, his voice quiet. Intimate. "What is it, Caitlin? What is the command that brings you to heel?"

I felt a surge of fear at the thought of Ari's being in charge like that and let him see it. If he thought that I was that easily controlled... Well, let him make that mistake. The tension was almost unbearable and I wondered which one of us would break first. In the end, it was Ducky.

"Mind giving me a go?" he asked.

Ari let go of me, taking my knife and throwing it and the scalpel into a corner. "I think not, Doctor, you would kill me without hesitation. I do, however, think you would regret it. Now, we have work to do if we're all to survive this day." He went back to his bag, pulling out duct tape before opening a body cooler.

"Oh, you have got to be joking. How long do you think we'll last in there?"

Ari gave Ducky a smile that held no humor. "If you do not do as instructed, I'll be forced to shoot little Caitlin, here."

"Go ahead."

"Caitlin, no," Ducky said, horrified. "I'm going, I'm going."

Ari didn't even look as Ducky climbed onto the drawer. "If I shoot you, it won't be to wound."

"Do you really think I don't know that?"

He pointed the gun at my heart and waited. When I remained still, he cocked his head. "You're not afraid of death. Very well." He shifted his aim to Ducky. I hesitated only a moment, until he said, "You know I will."

I knew, all right, so I climbed onto the drawer. It was tight, but by lying on our sides, we could just fit. Ari covered our mouths and bound our wrists then went to the phone and dialed, keeping it on speaker.

It was the negotiator who answered. "Hello." She waited a moment then, when Ari didn't say anything, "I don't know your name."

"Is Special Agent Gibbs there?"

"I don't know who that is."

I wasn't surprise to hear Gibbs break in before the negotiator was done. "I'm here."

"I thought you might be. You've seen me on video, now it's my turn to see you."

"Looking forward to it."

"Come alone. Unarmed," Ari told him. "And don't forget Qassam's things."

He hung up then, going to the door. When he saw the elevator coming down, he came back to slide the drawer in, closing the door on us.

It was pitch black and I wished it were night so I could see. I could hear, though; nothing from outside, but Ducky was breathing too quickly. I couldn't move enough to get my hands up and take the tape off, but I could hum; I chose a melody with a strong, slow rhythm, and waited for Ducky's breathing to fall into sync. I just hoped it was enough.

After a few minutes I could hear a dull echo that was, I found out later, Ari and Gibbs shooting each other. That was followed by a slightly louder sound that was the flash-bang from HRT's assault. Then it was only another minute or two before the door was opened and Ducky was drawing in deep, gasping breaths, while I pretended to do the same.

Gibbs was near the door to the morgue, Tony helping him to his feet. "Where are Kate and Ducky?" he asked.

"Right here," Tony said, pressing a towel to the bullet wound in Gibbs' shoulder. "He had them in a body drawer."

"We're fine," I said as the tape was pulled from my mouth.

"Indeed we are. Though, I do believe I need a bit of fresh air," he said, coughing in the smoke from the flash bang. "Caitlin, will you help an old man outside?"

"Of course."

I let him lean on me as we made our way out into the cool air. Once we were outside, he took a moment to regulate his breathing, which had still been a bit fast.

"Humming rather defeated the purpose, don't you think?" he finally said.

"Not exactly, Dr Mallard. The air I breathe out is the same as the air I take in."

He nodded. "Yes, I rather did notice the lack of a heartbeat. Not at first, not until I was calm, but... Well, there it is."

"Yes, there it is." I sighed but said nothing for a long while. "What are you going to do with this?"

He looked surprised. "Why would I do anything with it? My dear girl, you did everything you could to get us out of there. Although, attempting to stab him was, perhaps, not the best course of action. I can't imagine how you managed to miss."

I gave him a rueful smile. "I got cocky, that's how. I moved too quickly and forgot it wasn't night."

"What bearing does that have on anything?"

"I lose my abilities during the day. Everything that makes me... Well, more than normal."

"In other words, everything that gives you the advantage in a job such as this."

I shrugged. "I have to work at night, often enough. Fuck me, I did the same damn thing last night. Got cocky, I mean."

"What happened?"

"I raced into the warehouse after Edwards and he managed to tag me."

Ducky nodded. "I suppose that means Gibbs knows about your... State of being."

"It does." I didn't give him any details to avoid telling him about Gibbs' Immortality. "I wasn't sure how he was going to take it, but I guess he doesn't have any more problem with it than you do."

"Your tenacity and refusal to let someone else do the job impressed him. Obviously, or he wouldn't have asked for your help."

I started to say something, but stopped when my phone vibrated. I looked at the display to see it was Methos. "My husband," I told Ducky as I answered. "Hey."

"Hey. You okay? I've been calling for hours."

I glanced at my watch, surprised to see that we'd been there for well over an hour. It certainly didn't seem like it had been that long. "Slight exaggeration, no? I'm fine. I was just... busy."

As always, he heard more than I said. "Kate, what happened?"

"Three of us were held hostage. Don't worry, we're fine."

"You're sure you're all right? He didn't hurt you?"

Not physically, no, but I was still shaking, still spooked. "Well, he backhanded me when I stabbed... Look, I shouldn't say any more, but I promise. I'm fine."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it. God, that's the last thing you needed today."

"No, the last thing I needed today was for someone I care about to wind up dead. This, I can live with." I looked up as Tony stepped out. "I should go; I'm going to have a debriefing. Sorry I worried you."

He scoffed. "Not your fault, baby. Call me when you're through with everything."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you, too."

Tony nodded when I hung up. "You're right," he told me. "Horowitz—he headed up the HRT team—and the Director want to talk to you."

"Shall we, Ducky?"

"If we must."

Once I was debriefed, I went back to my borrowed desk to fill out my report. I wasn't there long when Tony came down from the Director's office.

He went to his desk, glancing at me. "You okay?"

I nodded. "I'd be better if the bastard hadn't gotten away, but yeah. I'm good."

"Yeah, he was slick. Gibbs figures he was wearing a bulletproof vest all along."

"He was. I felt it."

Tony looked up at that. "You felt it? How close were you that you could feel it?"

"Close enough to stab him."

"And you didn't?"

I glared at him. "Not for lack of trying."

He came over and perched on the corner of my desk. "Did you miss on purpose?"

"Hardly. Just not fast enough."

"Sure it's not Stockholm Syndrome?"

"Positive. No, I know the limited amount of time isn't relevant," I said when he started to argue. "But he hurt people I care about, Tony. I'm not going to identify with someone like that. Next chance I get, the bastard's dead." But I couldn't help but wonder. Even during the day, I should have been faster...

Tony studied me intently for a moment, but I was too good at bluffing and he went back to his desk. "You may have to fight Gibbs for that privilege."

Done with the incident report, I stood and stretched. "Gibbs can bite me." Then I froze. The sun wasn't down so I couldn't hear him, but I knew Gibbs. "He's right behind me, isn't he?"

"Yeah. I am," he said. "I thought you were the one who bit, Todd."

I turned to see him watching me with a smirk. I hid a smile of my own. "How badly do you want to know?"

He ignored the question. "We're done for the day," he said, going to his desk for his things. "Good night."

"Good, I need to eat," I sighed. "Night, boys."

I was at the windows when Gibbs said, "Hey, Todd." When I turned, he nodded. "Good work in there."

"Thanks. Hey, does that mean..."

"No, it doesn't. Be here first thing in the morning."

It took me a minute to realize that... "Tomorrow's Saturday."

He turned and headed towards the elevator. "Oh, yeah. Never mind."

Tony gave me a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, you'll get used to him."

I already was used to Gibbs. The only problem was, "Yeah. That was way less annoying on the show."


End file.
